


An Unassuming Life - Part 5

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: Domestic!Dean [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/M, Fluff and Smut, daddy!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6586348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family day at the ballpark. The reader and Dean spend some quality time together. Part of my Domestic!Dean AU, An Unassuming Life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unassuming Life - Part 5

 

Things had finally returned to normal after Dean’s accident; he’d gone back to work, you’d settled back into the routine of taking care of Henry, and working part-time. Dean was working too many hours, as usual, and no amount of nagging from you could get him to slow down. Buying the auto shop and all the established customers that had come with it was not enough; Dean wanted, needed, to make a name for himself, needed to prove that he deserved to have his name above the door. Of course, that meant he was also back to working damn near eighty hours a week and you were back to missing your husband.

He hadn’t had a day off in more than two weeks, despite your repeated requests. The two of you had argued about it, argued until Dean had grabbed a pillow and blanket, not even bothering to change his clothes, and gone downstairs to sleep on the couch. You didn’t sleep well, not with him in another room, not when the two of you were fighting. You tossed and turned most of the night, even going so far as to sneak downstairs a couple of times to see if he was asleep, peering at him from the bottom of the stairs, but not quite able to work of the courage to wake him up and talk to him.

The next morning, you could hear him moving around downstairs, the opening and closing of the fridge and the cupboards, the smell of coffee drifting through the house. Fifteen minutes later, you heard the front door close quietly and the roar of the Impala’s engine as it started. Dean had left without saying goodbye. You tossed the blanket to the end of the bed and forced yourself up. You had things to do.

You peeked in on Henry, who miraculously was still sleeping, scrawled across his toddler bed in the same position his father slept in - on his stomach with his hands tucked under his pillow. You closed the door quietly and headed downstairs. 

The envelope was sitting on the kitchen counter, underneath your coffee cup. Your name was scrawled across the front in Dean’s almost neat handwriting, two lines under it. You slid it out from under the cup and opened it to find three tickets to Saturday’s Royals game against the Yankees. A note fell out from between the tickets.  

_ You, me, and little man. Family day at the Royals. What do you say? _

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head. The perfect Dean apology and something he had obviously been planning for a few days. You hadn’t given him a chance to tell you, not when you’d picked a fight with him as soon as he’d walked through the door last night. You picked up the phone and dialed your husband’s cell phone number.

“Hey,” you mumbled when he answered. “I’m sorry.”

* * *

It was a beautiful day for a ballgame, sunny, but not too hot, a light breeze blowing. Dean carried Henry in his arms as the three of you made your way into the stadium, Henry’s eyes wide with wonder. His head was practically spinning in circles trying to see everything at once. You followed them through the crowds of people to your seats, several rows behind the Royals dugout. Your husband had gone all out.

Dean put Henry in the seat between you, his arm slung over the back of it, his hand resting on your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb in small circles. You couldn’t help but stare at him, your husband, his Royals’ hat pulled down low, his favorite sunglasses on. Sometimes it took you by surprise that this man was your husband, this man with his bowlegs, his gorgeous, perfect face, his countless freckles, and those perfectly sinful lips. You were literally the luckiest woman alive.

“What?” Dean smiled at you.

“Nothing,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Just admiring the view.”

Dean chuckled and returned his attention to the game, squeezing your shoulder briefly to let you know you weren’t fooling him.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of baseball, hot dogs, and beer, water for Henry. The Royals won, which made Dean very happy, as well as Henry, though you were pretty sure he was happy because his daddy was, not that it mattered because the smile on his face was priceless. After the game was over, you stopped in the team shop and bought Henry his own Royals hat, just like Dean’s and a couple of shirts. Henry also insisted on a pennant for his bedroom wall and his father was happy to oblige. You were pretty sure if he’d wanted one of everything in the store, Dean would have bought it for him. 

Dinner was pizza at a little place just down the street from the stadium, some of the best pizza in town. By the time you left, Henry was stifling yawns and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder as you walked hand in hand back to the car. Dean tucked him into his carseat in the back of the Impala, then he opened the door for you, kissing your forehead before ushering you into the car.

He took your hand as soon as he was in the car, tugging until you slid across the seat to sit next to him. He wrapped his arm around you, his fingers resting lightly on your waist, his lips occasionally brushing across your temple while he drove.

You turned the radio on, keeping it low so it wouldn’t wake Henry. You rested your head on Dean’s shoulder, sighing contentedly, eyes closed, your hand resting on his thigh.

“Today was perfect,” you murmured. 

“Yeah?” Dean chuckled. “I take it you had a good time.”

“The best,” you sighed, snuggling closer to your husband.

You stayed like that the rest of the way home, cuddled up against Dean, classic rock playing on the radio, Henry snoring softly in the backseat. You were almost disappointed when he pulled into the driveway.

Dean lifted Henry from his seat, handing him to you so he could unlock the door. He held it open for you, allowing you to go in first. Dean wandered the house, checking doors and windows, while you took Henry upstairs and tucked him into bed. You don’t bother to try and get him into a pair of pajamas, you just yanked off his shoes and tucked the covers around him. He didn’t even stir.

When you stepped into the hallway, pulling Henry’s door closed behind you, Dean was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He held out his arms, allowing you to fall into them, burying your face against his chest, his familiar scent flooding your nose. He hugged you close, his lips pressed to the top of your head. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispered. He scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom, his kisses muffling your giggles. He lowered you to the bed, hovering over you, kissing your cheeks, your neck, your chin, your eyelids, and finally your mouth. You moaned and pulled him down on the bed beside you.

Dean gathered you in his arms and kissed you, just a touch of his lips to yours, his tongue lightly tracing your bottom lip. He ran his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your face, his nose brushing against yours as he slowly deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth, a breathy moan escaping him. He twisted his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer, his other hand circling your waist and crushing you to his chest.

He sat up, moving to crouch between your legs, grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head, tossing it aside. He helped you out of yours before loosening the button on your jeans and removing them. You slipped off your bra while he slid your panties down your legs, following their path with his lips. Once they were on the floor with the rest of the clothes, he kissed a trail up your stomach, pausing to suckle each of your breasts, laving the nipple repeatedly, teasing the hard pebble with his teeth and tongue until you were gasping with need. He continued his exploration of your body, kissing every inch of skin between your breasts and shoulders, nestling his hips between your legs, sprawled over you, his weight solid and comforting, the head of his cock teasing you.

You ran your hands over his broad shoulders, your nails digging into the skin when he nipped at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, his arms sliding around you, the warmth of his body surrounding you. His hips moved, his cock sliding through your folds, just grazing your clit, sending a jolt of heat bursting through you. You moaned, squirming beneath him.

Dean’s hand slid between your bodies, drifting down your stomach and between your legs. He pushed a finger inside you, just to the first knuckle, moving slowly, caressing your inner walls, drawing out the pleasure. He slipped a second finger in alongside the first, deep inside, pumping them slowly, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. He pressed his mouth to your ear, nibbling at the lobe, his tongue tracing the shell.

You moaned again, a deep shudder working through you as the coil deep in the pit of your stomach wound tighter and tighter. Dean’s cock jerked against your leg.

“Jesus, baby, do you know what those sounds do to me?” he groaned. “How hard they make me, how much they make me want you?” His fingers twisted in a come-hither motion, brushing against your sweet spot, your hips coming off the bed to meet his hand.

“Please,” you begged. “I’m so close.” Your breath was tearing in and out of your throat, and strangled, desperate moans were falling from your lips.

Dean tucked his arm under your knee and pulled your leg up and around his back, his cock replacing his fingers, thick and long, entering you slowly. He rocked forward, one braced beside your head, the other drifting up and down the back of your thigh as he moved inside of you.

You rested your foot on the back of his thigh, your hands running down his back to grab hold of him, digging your fingers into his supple ass, meeting Dean thrust for thrust, groaning wantonly as every tip of his hips had his pelvic bone pressing against your clit, your body burning with the need to come.

“Come on, baby,” Dean growled. He bit at your lip, opening your mouth, his tongue entering you, moving in the same rhythmic motion as his hips, pushing you closer to what you were desperately chasing. “I want you to come for me.” 

Dean knew just what to do, you both did, both of you moving in perfect synchronicity, connected in a way that only two people who knew every little thing about each other could be connected. You knew just where to touch him to make him moan, he knew just how to move to make you mewl with need, every touch, every move made to bring pleasure to the other.

Your back arched and your eyes rolled back in your head, your vision going white as the orgasm finally hit you, racing through every nerve ending, your body on fire, the burst of adrenaline making your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

Dean slammed into you, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he chased his own orgasm. He came, grunting your name, his breath hot on your ear, his hands clutching the pillows on either side of your head. 

When it was over, he kissed you, a deep, probing, perfect kiss that made your toes curl. He rolled to his back, taking your hand in his, squeezing your fingers gently. 

“Perfect end to a perfect day,” he murmured.


End file.
